


Parts and Pieces

by melonbutterfly



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-27
Updated: 2009-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every step down the wooden stairs that lead up to her place, she feels her breath shorten; soon, she's panting, smiling widely and trembling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parts and Pieces

It's night.

It's always night in her place, because she loves the night, but right now it's also night fort he rest of this half of the world. She can hear the silence in her, and she almost doesn't dare going out this time, but she loves night, breathes water, and she has to.

The moon, her former lover and the only man who could ever control her, if only partially, is low and bright in the sky, almost hidden behind the horizon that is very high so deep in the forest. His light is caressing her skin, and when she breathes it smells of ancient, lazy power, and forever, and chill. It's only just a hint of what she once was able to feel, smell, hear, taste and some nights, it feels mocking while others it's soothing, like the sluggish feeling four degrees before freezing.

Tonight, it's exhilarating, and she breathes deeply, closes her eyes and opens her hand, catching the light between them for just a moment, shorter than the wing beat of a mosquito, but she tilts her head back and laughs.

With every step down the wooden stairs that lead up to her place, she feels her breath shorten; soon, she's panting, smiling widely and trembling. The water, the water; she can feel it, can almost taste the heady mix of the full, rich taste of salty sea mixed with the heady, arcane taste of freshwater. This place she chose; it's good, very good, she knows this, and she knows this again every time she walks down the steps. Closer to the sea, to herself would be pain, and farther away would be terrifying, choking and lonely.

She's close now, so close; deafness is screaming in her ears and for just a moment the pain of not knowing, not being threatens to crush her. But the second she feels a tear trickle out of her left eye the crush vanishes, and she wants to laugh, laugh; she's close, so close, and suddenly she's running, laughing and crying, throws herself into the ear and pushes the air out of her as she breaks through the surface, hears and feels and sees and tastes the water collapsing over her head, forcefully push its way against her skin, into every nook and crease until it's everywhere, _everywhere_.

As she slowly inks to the ground, she wishes she could breathe in, let the water into her completely, and yet she knows that even that is a hollow pleasure. She and herself are apart, this body she has been locked in is the insuperable borderline, keeping her most true self in, keeping her most true self out.

She's split, she's apart, but it's all around her, hugging and confining her, and she looks up at the surface, silvery from the moon and dark from the night, and she's content.


End file.
